


Shiver (The Little Match Girl: Shaky Ground Remix)

by corvidae9



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Child Neglect, Fairy Tales, Gen, Hopeful endings, The Little Match Girl - Freeform, woe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-10
Updated: 2006-09-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22546867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvidae9/pseuds/corvidae9
Summary: Luna is always cold these days.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Shiver (The Little Match Girl: Shaky Ground Remix)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally written for the LJ comm hp_fairytales, and is based on Hans Christian Andersen's The Little Match Girl. I was obsessed with unfiltered fairy tale crack as a child, and this one has always poked me right in the feels.

Once upon a time when Luna was still little (which meant before her mother had died), it had been so cold, she'd shivered hard in her bed. She curled in a tight ball and pulled the blanket over her head as her teeth clacked together and she wondered what she'd done to attract such a legion of Frost Doxies and whether she should go tell her Mum.

As if on cue, her Mum had walked into the room and sucked in a hard breath. Swearing at the old house, she reinforced the insulation charms on the sagging windowframes and then came over to check on the tiny blond girl hiding under her covers. Luna's mum had cast warming charms on the blankets and rubbed her feet, kissed her forehead and finally curled around her, murmuring her apologies and promising better soon. Luna had fallen asleep warm and comforted, sure that nothing ever could go wrong as long as she had her mother.

###

And then of course, she had no mother and the cold seeped into her beat-up mary janes and up her legs and belly button and heart as she stood in the cemetary that was covered in a soft, white new layer of snow. Her father's hand was stiflingly hot and heavy on her back but she shivered anyway and wondered if she'd ever be warm again.

###

It was her last winter before school and Luna was afraid she hadn't taught herself enough and that she might be a little behind. Her second-hand, broken-spined Calculus and Arithmancy books were dog-eared, yet her mother's collection of great literature remained pristine though Luna had reread them over and over just as her Mum had. The wispy practice wand her mother had given her was worn smooth and she was well acquainted with exactly what she could get it to do.

Her father had taken all the Potions books and burned them in the fireplace one by one just after her mother died, and with that, seemed to forget Luna existed but to make sure there was some sort of food in the house, spare change in the kitchen drawer and that she was easily found early in the morning when he left and late at night when he came home. Luna didn't blame him-- he was busy, and she did look an awful lot like her mother. Her days were her own to shiver in her mother's sewing room (which was really more of a workroom, or had been before her father sold all of her equipment) or not, as suited her; her nights were her own to shiver in her bed whether the temperature warranted it or not.

The coins in the drawer weren't enough for a new jumper or shoes and Luna hoped that her father would remember that she'd need things for school. In the meantime, Luna sat at her desk and waited for her father to grunt that he was on his way to the office and for the loud 'pop' before climbing up into the attic.

She dug through the two trunks of her mother's things with a break for a nap curled against a fluffy white dress. She came back downstairs with a too-long jumper that was stretched almost to the edge of her too-short dress and a pair of too-big boots, but they'd be fine for now. Her father would never notice, and they just had to last until school.

School School School. Everything came back to school. She would learn so much, and the house elves would bring her cocoa and the teachers would remember her name and maybe she would make a friend and she would only be home in the summer when it was harder to shiver.

Hogwarts could never be cold like this.

###

Luna sat at the desk in the downstairs sitting room, feet tucked under her bum, jumper tucked over her knees, her quill scratching across her notes, though her neat scrawl had gone from describing transfiguration of small animals to writing stories about the snow. The icebox was empty of everything but an old jug of milk and two eggs, and Luna had felt bad about finishing them, thinking she should probably save them for breakfast instead.

She fell asleep over her book to the sound of her stomach growling and woke only when her father finally came home by way of the Floo, clutching a paper bag and swaying a little crookedly as he walked across the room. He patted her heavily on the head and clutched at the staircase railing, muttering about never selling enough papers, never having enough money or time.

"Daddy?" she murmured muzzily, rubbing at her eyes.

Her father paused and turned to squint at her. "Oh, yeah. Sorry. Sorry sweetheart." He came back down the one step he'd managed to negotiate so far and tottered over to set the bag next to her book. "Brought you somethin'. Didn't go to the grocery. But I'll do it tomorrow."

"That's ok, Daddy," Luna murmured. It was probably the first time he'd said more than a word to her in weeks and she listened hard, trying to remember when he used to say more, though it didn't work. Perhaps he never had. "Thank you."

"Just like your mother," he said, and she stared wide-eyed as he stroked her cheek as he spoke crookedly, yet entirely matter-of-fact. "I can't get attached. You'll kill yourself like she did." He gripped her chin a little harder, watching her with an unsteady gaze. "I would have sent you to your great-aunt Mariel, but she said she was too old for children. You do alright, though, yeah? And soon it's school. Won't have to deal with me anymore."

Luna peered hard, trying to find something to disagree with to make him feel better, and failed at that, too.

"Yes, Daddy. Will you have the money for my things?"

Her father blinked and turned away to do battle once again with the stairs.

###

The paper bag held a big roast beef sandwich and a cold order of chips. She made it last two days. (Her father forgot the groceries again.) Then Luna had an idea.

If her father couldn't sell papers, maybe she could.

###

Luna knew she had to start early. Today-- there was no time to waste if she was going to earn enough money before September. She hopped out of bed once her father was gone and strapped her big boots on over her thickest socks. She would have worn trousers, but hers were too small, and so she picked the longest dress she owned (yet again salvaged from the attic). Her hair hung in two thick plaits and she pulled her big jumper and a worn-thin knit cap over her head.

She practiced her smile in the mirror for just a moment - mostly to convince herself that she still knew how, and then raced downstairs. The spare change was tucked into a pocket, as were two extra handfuls of Floo powder tied in a handkerchief. With that, Luna walked over to the hearth and took the Floo to the Quibbler offices.

###

She had a story ready about wanting to see her dad in case anyone stopped her, but no one was around to notice Luna making her way to the distribution center just one door down from the shipping office hearth. Carefully, she took a large bundle of papers from the rearmost stack and tucked them into her bag, ran back to the Floo and took it to Diagon Alley.

###

The next part of Luna's plan consisted of using her change to buy some breakfast, and then wandering the Alley selling papers. When Luna arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, she dusted herself off and exited the Wizarding side, only to be bumped off of the pavement and into the path of an oncoming carriage by a large man that barely noticed her. She backpedalled, eyes wide, her money and handkerchief full of Floo powder tumbling out of her pocket, the wet snow soaking the bottom of her dress. The powder sparked as the wheels rolled over it and as she watched it spark up over the coins, a hand smaller than hers pinched them and ran off attached to a giggling body.

So much for breakfast.

###

In the afternoon, Luna stopped for a break and brushed the snow off of the steps of the Apothecary's shop, still holding up a paper and tiredly declaring, "Carnivorous Kangaroos Resurfacing in the Australian Outback! Read all about it!"

No one seemed interested. It was suddenly less shocking that her father never seemed to sell quite enough papers.

Luna blew into her cupped hands and over her bluish fingernails and wished he would try and sell something else instead. When the cold stole up through the bit of jumper and dress between the cold step and her bottom, she got up and moved on.

###

It had been dark for at least an hour and the cold had seeped directly into Luna's bones, it seemed, by way of soaked boots and sodden backpack, the Quibbler in her hands a lead weight as it flopped over on itself as she very much longed to do. Still, no money meant no more Floo powder and no Floo powder meant no going home quite yet, and her home being what it was... Even if she begged a bit at the Leaky Cauldron, there was no point. If there was to be no school, there didn't need to be home either.

The fat snowflakes began to fall more thickly around her and she shoved the paper in her hand into her backpack and pulled her sweater sleeves over her shaking fingers before wrapping her arms around herself. Luna missed her mother. She wished she could say she missed her father, but he'd never quite been around before either, had he? She was pants at taking care of herself. And she was more tired and sick of the cold than she'd ever been.

Lights in the Alley were switching off and shopkeepers turning signs, heading home to wherever they stayed, sometimes just upstairs from their shops where Luna could see lights flickering on, and smell the wafting aromas of homecooked dinners. The laughter of families and friends drifted on the air and followed her as she finally slipped into the dark space between two squat, quiet buildings and sat on an overturned milk crate.

Crying would be of no use. The tears would probably stick to her eyelashes and she was going to need to see. She tucked her feet up underneath herself and pulled out her little practice wand, knowing she could get just enough power through it to perform small spells. Eyeing her backpack and then her wand, she blinked and took her mangled demonstration paper out.

_"Locarnum Inflamare."_

The corner of the paper blazed up and she actually cracked a smile as she dropped it on the ground and held her hands out to the tiny fire, the rush of heat sending a delicious sting down fingers that had been too cold for too long. She could see in the heart of the flames an image of a warm sitting room and hot mugs of cocoa; of her mother's favorite book of bedtime stories and soft slippers by a roaring fire. Luna's smile grew into a wide grin, and she clapped her hands with joy, exclaiming, "I remember that!"

When the flames flickered down, Luna pulled another paper from her pack and put it down, setting it ablaze the same as the first. This time as she stretched her wet boots toward it, she could see a clear image of a table set with the good china, and filled with all of the foods she remembered as her favorites. Her stomach turned and rumbled as she tilted her head and unconsciouly licked her lips. Unconsciously, she stretched her fingers toward the tureen of steaming stew only to see it begin to spin and sort of hop and again she smiled until it all faded away and she was left staring at the ashes of the burnt papers, snowflakes sizzling upon contact.

Luna pulled another paper from her pack and lit it next, and oh-- this time, better than the meager heat was the vision of Christmas morning-- the kind her mum would build for her, because in the almost two years that she'd been gone, Luna knew now that her father likely had not a thing to do with any of it. There were homemade scones and butter and tea on a tray and a tree covered in ribbons and small presents. This time, Luna did cry maybe just a little bit, but she felt foolish for doing so-- it wasn't as if it would help.

The flames went out and she hung her head. With a sniff, she took the remaining pile of papers and tossed them down in front of her, sticking her wand in the middle of the stack and lighting them from the center before pulling her hand quickly away. Impossibly, Luna managed to curl her small frame onto her side on the crate and just let the heat sink in from her front as the snow sunk into her side. A star shot across the night and Luna wriggled her fingers toward it in a small wave goodbye for whomever's soul was on the way out.

Luna's attention was drawn back to the temporary roar of burning newspaper, and she struggled to sit up again as the flames began to grow into a column of white, roiling heat. In an instant, her mother was standing in the otherwise dark alley, and Luna stared. What else could she do?

Her mother bent to brush a stray wisp of hair back from her forehead and kissed it, and heat radiated out from where her lips touched all throughout Luna's skin.

"Mummy?"

Warm, warm fingers brushed Luna's cheek, took her hands and rubbed them together until they weren't blue anymore. "Yes, darling. I'm here."

Luna threw her arms around the beautiful shimmering woman's neck with a sob, feeling as if the only person who had ever truly cared was back and everything would finally be alright. "Are you here for me, mummy? Will you take me with you?" Luna murmured into her mother's bright hair.

"I'm supposed to be," sighed her mother. "But damned if I'll let my daughter die of cold in an alley, so sod that." The luminous woman stood back, her eyes glistening with ephemeral tears, her hands firmly on Luna's face and still radiating heat. "You hold on just a few more minutes, my love. Mummy will fix it."

Her mother winked into not much more than a small globe of light and zipped to the mouth of the alley. Voices Luna hadn't noticed before seemed to be approaching and engaged in cheerful conversation suddenly dissolved into a chaos of fluttering exasperation.

"My packages! Bother! Ginny, dear, fetch that one--- What...?"

Luna was back to shivering uncontrollably, and she could see a rotund woman in a tatty old coat approaching her, though speaking or doing much more than said shivering was apparently beyond her.

The woman covered her mouth with one hand as she hurried the last few steps to Luna, already unbuttoning her coat as she cried, "Arthur? Arthur, come quickly!" The coat fell around her shoulders and Luna squinted at the woman, who looked vaguely familiar as she touched Luna's face and hands. "Merlin. Child, you're nearly frozen through! Arthur!"

A man's voice now. "Yes, yes dear wh-- your coat, but--" He came into her line of sight and gasped. "Dear lord. Molly, we have to--"

"Sweetheart, are you alone?" Molly asked, stroking her hair.

All Luna could do was nod, burrowing into the coat.

"You can't stay here, you'll freeze."

"I did, I think," Luna murmured shakily. "Mum stopped it, but she's dead."

"We're going to bring you home with us." Molly looked as though she were about to cry, though her jaw was set, back straight. "And then we can sort out where you belong once we've warmed you up, alright?"

Luna nodded again, lifting her hand to touch Molly's, wondering if she was just another apparition, but the fire was out and there were only ashes and small puddles left to show for it.

Strong arms lifted her up and held her close as the woman continued to fuss while spelling her packages absently into a bundle. "Take her straight home Arthur-- Ginny and I will follow. I can finish the errands on my own tomorrow."

The man holding her smiled gently and murmured, "Don't you worry, little one. We've experience with wayward children."

His voice was reassuring, comforting and Luna shut her eyes, too tired and cold to do much else but murmur, "I only wanted to be where it wouldn't be cold."

"We've experience with that, too," he said with a small smile and Apparated them both.

Somewhere in the swirl of pressure, she could hear her mother's voice ringing in her ears.

_"I love you, my heart. Be well. Live happily ever after._

_I have to see a man about a paper."_


End file.
